Red John Revealed
by smartnsweet1
Summary: Criminal Minds' FBI Profilers are called in to solve the Mentalist's Red John serial killer case--with shocking results.


"Jane should be here," Lisbon insisted as she held open the door to the conference room.

Rossi's expression softened. "And you know why he isn't…"

Agent Hotchner took the seat at the head of the table and nodded at Reid and Prentiss to sit next to him. "Calling us was the right thing to do," he added, pulling out the chair to his left for his host. "Affection is never a reason to hide from the truth."

Lisbon looked away, her tone even, "Respect, Agent Hotchner. Respect."

Rossi clasped his hands in front of him and rested them on the table, his eyes meeting Lisbon's.

"You disagree with our profile," she began. It wasn't a question.

"Not entirely, Agent Lisbon. You are correct, the serial killer Red John is obsessed with Patrick Jane."

"If only Jane hadn't gone on TV…all of this…"

Dr. Reid snorted. "Would still have happened. Such sadism, such hatred, reveal an obsession hardly triggered by a three minute sound bite—Red John would have applauded the attention, not seek to avenge it. The seeds for murder had been planted long before."

Noting Lisbon's frown, Rossi leaned forward. "You told us about the baseball."

Lisbon looked confused. "We solved—you mean Jane's head injury?"

Rossi nodded, "The flashbacks."

* * *

Jane hadn't been too specific, Lisbon admitted, but he had revealed a few tidbits about his adolescence on the carny circuit. And how he'd run from going through with a psychic con to spare a sick young girl.

"A conscience," Hotchner stated.

"Bound to cause trouble sometime," added Rossi. "And yet it can be suppressed."

Lisbon felt the anger rise, "You're not implying that Jane—"

Prentiss' hand on her shoulder didn't reassure Lisbon. "A Jane."

No! Not a split personality. Yes, Jane had spent weeks in a mental hospital after the murders, but—not my Jane. Not my Jane!

* * *

Prentiss leafed through the file she'd laid on the table. "Patrick Jane was arrested at age 17 and spent a year in juvie for petty larceny. DUI at 19 in California. Nothing for 5 years until he's deported back to the US from Australia. Three years later, a wife and a baby, and a house in Van Nuys. A couple more years and he gets his big breaks—Oprah, Chopra, house in Beverly Hills, the Jag. Books, DVDs, six figure lecture circuit, self-improvement, the professional's con. It wasn't just one TV show.

"So you're saying the pressure got to him?" Lisbon ventured.

"Yes," Reid nodded, "to the other Jane, the repressed, bitter, angry failure, relegated to the shadows to watch his Pygmalion succeed."

"Wait—Pygmalion—you mean like My Fair Lady?"

"Bernard Shaw, really," Reid said. "Where Liza Doolittle never did come back to Henry Higgins."

"But Liza never dissed the sculptor that molded her," Rossi interjected, "she just moved on and married Freddy. With narcissism and sociopathy, that would have been hard enough to take. When Patrick Jane began denigrating the roots of his success, the trigger was pulled. The beast was set free."

* * *

Lisbon struggled to maintain her composure. She was a CBI agent, and she knew how to follow orders. Besides, she owed it to Bosco. Hadn't he given his life for hers?

"Does Jane know?" Her voice was a mere whisper.

"On some level, I think he does," Rossi returned.

Hotchner nodded. "That would explain the psychiatric hospitalization."

Helpless, Lisbon looked at her FBI colleagues. "So now what?"

Reid was already dialing on his iPhone. "Garcia, where is he?"

The voice on the speaker chirped, "In Los Angeles, we've got him narrowed down to a few flophouses near the Civic Center. JJ's on with LAPD and Derek's already on his way."

Lisbon turned to see Jane's shadow on the window beyond, his azure eyes trying to peer through the glass and the slit in the blinds. "Los Angeles--? Who?"

* * *

Hotchner leafed through the file in front of Prentiss. "Alex. About 20 aka's here, which one do you want."

"Patrick Jane's father," Rossi explained.

Lisbon gasped.

"Clearly a sociopath, as most con artists are. Charming, manipulative, and smart," Spencer Reid said, "Alex saw his son Patrick as a narcissistic projection of his own ambitions. When Patrick succeeded in besting his father--by miles--at his own game, the narcissistic insult was intolerable. Alex's rage led to the obsession to destroy his son through any means possible. For a man who couldn't truly love his son, what better way to kill Patrick than to kill those his son really did love?"

"Oh my God," whispered Lisbon, her face ashen.

"It was 'Chronos and Zeus', wasn't it?" Rossi said gently.

Lisbon met his eyes with a question.

"Sam Bosco's last words," said Rossi.

Lisbon nodded, and rested her head in her hands, her eyes brimming with tears.


End file.
